Heh! Well, I can understand it's a bit difficult to sight in accurately on a human-sized target that's 2 or 3 thousand miles away. I mean, they can do it fine with a nuke...but that's not what we're talking about here...and a good thing! A nuke would basically erase Orillia right off the map, and that would not be good.

Stilly: See if your local Sears has a current pitch gpoing on a product called Mister Sticky--it grabs dust, grit and everything else --cat hair, etc.--and makes it stick onto a roller until you rinse it in warm water and then it all comes brand-new clean. Terrific technology--some kind of silicon compound, I imagine. Just what you need!!

Amos, I was lazy and it was cold out when I started working, so there is dust near the back door from the saw. I probably should have left the saw outside. I've been needing to take down stuff on the mantle to wash and put away, now the need is more urgent. I used to work in that spot all of the time when I moved in and the house was empty - it's darned inconvenient how much messier it is when there is furniture in the room!

It's a bit like that, but you must realize that Rap's delusions of omnipotent grandeur exceeed Romney's by a comfortable margin, Amos. See....Romney thinks he's one of God's own...but Rap thinks God is own of his own!

No, no, not hubris. I know that in the end I will, like Ouroboros, end up destroying and then recreating myself through Cycles without number, beyond the End Of Time, beyond the End Of Eternity. If you're good I'll leave you out of the next cycle and if you ain't, well, Santa Claus ain't got nothin' on me when it comes to dealing with naughty.

I went to the dentist today to get three fillings on the right side. It didn't take long, but when it wore off, I felt like I'd been slugged in the jaw.

I hate to think what Amos' head feels like after all of that work those Mexican doctors have been doing on him! Boring into bones, burying shards in his jaw through his gums . . . ouch! Are you all finished with that, Mr. A?

He ain't really goin' down there for dentistry, Stilly. That's his cover story. The REAL story is some clandestine get-togethers with a short, hairy female Chimp who runs a cathouse down there and she thinks she's my sister. She's completely nuts...and if ya ask me, so is Amos. That bein' the case, I guess maybe it's a match made in...well...not heaven, that's fer sure! Probably the other place. ;-D Ook! Ook!

Chonga, I didn't get the chance to drop you as fish bait, but a friend of mind DID get one of your old fedoras. No one but you had ever worn it (why would they want to?). And guess what!

A match of the DNA in the bulbs of the hairs inside that truly tacky hat, as well as DNA taken from the sweat residue inside, was a 99.99% match for the DNA of Chinga, the chimp who is now proven to be not only your sister, but your TWIN sister!!!

Rap, I am worried about you. You are slidin' further and further into delusions of grandeur and bizarre fantasies based on some kinda obscure wish fullfillment, but not on the plain facts that are starin' you in the face. In short, yer losin' touch with reality. You remind me a lot of Dutch Schulz in the last few weeks of his life...and ya know what happened to him, don'tcha?

Yeah, he grew up just up the block from me. We used to play sandlot (or in our case, dumplot) softball together. His real name was Robert but everybody, even is parents and the nuns at school, called him "Dutch" or "Dutchie." After high school he went on and became a priest, and last I heard he was a retired Monsignor and living in a small town (maybe Farmers Retreat) in southern Indiana.

Hey Mom! Did you see the news where Volkswagon is releasing a new model car? It's a single seater, retails for around $600 bucks and gets over 400 miles per tank of diesel. The tank holds less then 2 gals!!!!!

Of course they are only offering it in China. Why can't US companies come up with something like this? Expecially the $600 price....

That vaporous phantasm certainly screeches loudly for such an insubstantial thing. His sister could hear him all the way from her cathouse in Detroit City.

To answer your question, dear Ms Sage, I am at present complete on teeth implantery, although there is one more planned such op in my future. The great benefit, once you get over the swole jaw and the pain, is a sterling piece of toothery that will never let you down, fall out or come undone in your lifetime, as far as I know.

As for being threatened with screams from an imaginary invention, especially one as pale and derivative as yon Chimpette--I am shaking in my boots, for sure. I have been screamed at by the most psychotic of immortals, and have shed not a hair nor batted an eyelash. The idea that an imaginary spawn of flimsy faquiry such as Chongo could startle me by a jot or a tittle is simply ludicrous, like all the rest of his febrile, pusillanimous meanderings.

Indeed, Amos? Can we not also enjoy in our maturity that which delighted us in our youth? Can we not appreciate the slapstick of, say, a Red Skelton as well as the more sophisticated humor of a George Carlin? Can we not enjoy the wit of Pope and the verbal sallies of "Fractured Fairy Tales"? Is the enjoyment of Richard Armour's classic books, such as "Twisted Tales From Shakespeare" enhanced or diluted by knowing Shakespeare's works from both the literary and theatrical perspectives? Does gallows humor, such as Mercutio's "It is not as deep as a well nor as wide a a church door" speech in "Romeo and Juliet" stand somehow superior to Snowden's Secret in "Catch 22" or the antics of "M*A*S*H"? Is the satire of "Mad" less than that of "Punch" or "Judge" or even "Gulliver's Travels" and if so, how? Jejeune? -- perhaps to your tastes.

How many Southern Californians does it take to change a light bulb? None, because the bulb is doin' it's thing, like mellow, ya know?

That song is pure sobbing to me. It was radio playing when I lost my true love because I had to fulfill family duties. Every time I hear it, I weep uncontrollably... thirty years hence.

But, better to have loved and lost than to never have known true love at all, they say. Still, it pisses me off tho, eh? Ya know what I mean, eh? I can just imagine how LH feels about that Winononotlikely chick, right? Poor guy.

Go out and celebrate the birth of Sam Clemens, the greatest writer North America ever produced, on November 30, 1835.

Yes, today is Sam's 177th birthday!!! Drink! Fool around with loose women! Pilot a riverboat! Join the CSA! Write great novels! Go broke! Become friends with a former US President! Live in Italy, Austria, England, France! Smoke a cigar! Celebrate Sam's life, dude!!

Good lord! It is fortunate that Mr Twain is not alive today and still engaging in this sort of diabolical literary criticism, this veritable drawing, quartering, and incineration of his hapless inferiors in the literary arts!

Imagine, for instance, what he might say about Amos's writings! Or mine! We would either be found hanging wretchedly by an improvised noose in our respective closets...or Mr Twain would be found lying dead in an alleyway, having been beaten savagely to death with a blunt instrument by persons unknown...if not unsuspected.

"I thoroughly disapprove of duels. I consider them unwise and I know they are dangerous. Also, sinful. If a man should challenge me, I would take him kindly and forgivingly by the hand and lead him to a quiet retired spot and kill him." --Ol' Sam

If I was a monkey, Rap, I guess I'd be real upset about that statement you quoted from "Sam", but I'm not.

Amos, you are a 3rd rate imitation of a real man. I ain't gonna explain to you what a real man is, cos I know it wouldn't do no good if I did. It would be like tryin' to teach a pig how to use ice skates. Hopeless. And who is this "Chonga" you are tryin' to insult? I don't know anyone with that name.

Actually, no, he's not. The general consensus amongst humans is that it is not actually feasible to send communications to an imaginary character, no matter how vehemently he is imagined to be asserting him/her/itself. The belief that one is doing so is generally perceived to be delusory. Therefore, R. was not talking to Chongo, QED. There may of course, be some dimwitted puppetmaster trying to induce such delusions by generatying signals and sending them through the nebulous shallow phantasm he calls Chongo, but that is a different question altogether.

If yer not talkin' to ME, then who are ya talkin' to? I don't see anyone else around here. You must be talkin' to me. And if you aren't talkin' to me, then why should I pay any attention to what you say? Answer me that, Roscoe.

Ya know what I think? I don't think anybody pays much attention to what you say...except yerself, see? You are basically just talkin' to yerself. You got this little love match goin' with yerself, and that's all you got. If they took yer keyboard away, you'd curl up in a little ball on the floor and start cryin'.

No, I wasn't talking to you, "Chongo". The reason I am not is in my previous post. The reason you don't see no-one else around but yourself is because you are a purely postulated form, an artifice whose sole claim to existence is that someone imagined you. As such, there is no "there" there in which to see others, because the entire loop of your perception is non-operational. It is pretended into being whole cloth. If someone were to appear "there" it would shatter the very premises of existing for you. You'd probably pop like a soap bubble. See?